


Open Arms

by HappyUnluckyStar



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Unwound Future Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyUnluckyStar/pseuds/HappyUnluckyStar
Summary: He can only do so much to prevent his number one apprentice’s (though deep down, Luke would always be like a son to him) cap from getting soaked.





	Open Arms

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewriting (if you can call it that) of the second-last cutscene of Unwound/Lost Future, where Luke is due to leave for America. I wrote this for practice, so it isn't that long. Or good.
> 
> Any feedback is greatly appreciated!

The smell of smoke grows thick in his lungs with each breath, swirling like confused butterflies. The horn of a distant ship sounds, signaling it’s departure. Layton trains his eyes on the ship before them, a grand blue vessel. Similarly, Luke’s eyes refuse to look up at his mentor; they are focused on the ants scuffling across the gritty port floor, a glazed look in them. He is using his brown leather suitcase (which is almost as large as he is) as a makeshift seat. With a deft push, he hops off the suitcase, still refusing to face the professor’s.

“I suppose… this is goodbye.” The tone he uses almost sounds… resigned, as if someone had stabbed him in the back and he had expected it, and welcomed it with open arms. Seeing the normally-energetic boy act so stoic makes Layton’s heart ache. 

“Oh no, my boy,” he says. “This is ‘so long’, not ‘goodbye’.” Keeping his voice and expression in check never felt more difficult. He had always been able to maintain a stiff upper lip, so why was this any different? 

Luke begins to tremble. He squeezes his eyes shut, still facing away, to stop the tears before they could fall. Despite his best efforts, a whimper escapes his throat. “Now, Luke…” Layton chides lightly. “You know a gentleman never makes a scene in public.” For a brief moment, all the times he’s taught him how to be a gentleman flash through his mind. A wave of nostalgia gives him more heartache than he really needs.

One, two sniffles, and he loses his composure. Luke finally forces himself to look up. The despair etched on his face almost gets to him. “I’m sorry, Professor!” he says, his voice cracking (and Layton’s heart cracking along with it). “But I’m not a gentleman yet!” He collapses into Layton’s arms and begins to cry into his orange sweater, drenching it in snot and tears.

He is visibly at a loss for words. “There, there,” he soothes instead, though he isn’t sure if he’s talking to Luke or himself — or both. His arms awkwardly wrap around the small boy. He adjusts his hat, blinking away the little beads of tears that were already beginning to form near the corners of his eyes.

“You’ll- You’ll write to me, won’t you? We’ll keep in touch?” He adds, “I’m going to miss being your ap- apprentice.” Layton hesitates. Luke had impacted him almost as much as Claire had; it pained him that he was selling himself so short. The three, almost four years he had known the thirteen-year-old were by far some of the most impactful years of his life.

He had to know.

“Luke, you are far more than just an apprentice to me.” This was probably the last chance he would ever get to say this. He’d better make it count. But then he falters, and he finds himself unable to say anything else. The rest of his words hang in the air, unspoken, but holding just as much meaning as they would have if they _had_ rung out.

Luke stops sobbing, and looks up at him with glassy eyes. He’s not sure if they’re shining out of happiness or awe or sadness or- oh god the waterworks are starting up again _please don’t cry-_

He nuzzles his face into his damp sweater again, choking out a “thank you” between more ugly sobs. To his immense dismay, Layton finds his vision blurring. _Don’t cry, Hershel. It’s not the end of the world. You’ll see him again. It is not gentlemanly to cry in public. You said so yourself._

He cries anyway, because he’s lost two of the people he loved — no, _loves_ — in the span of less than a week and it’s just too much. He knows that he still has Flora, but-

He can only do so much to prevent his number one apprentice’s (though deep down, Luke would always be like a son to him) cap from getting soaked.

 


End file.
